Believe
by Bedelia
Summary: Harry and Luna mark the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts her way: with music, laughter, and imagination. Winner of the Twin Exchange May Challenge.


**Believe**

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>__ I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. This is an amateur, nonprofit work.**  
>Prompts:<strong>__ Quilt, "Revenge," Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts**  
>Pairing: <strong>__Harry/your choice (I chose Luna, obviously)**  
>AN:**__ Thanks for reading! :) _

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><p>Groaning, Harry buried his face in his pillow. The stubborn rays of sunlight that streamed in through the window would not be ignored; they warmed the back of his neck, seeming to delight in reminding him that he was well and truly awake. There would be no getting back to sleep now.<p>

He really needed to get some curtains.

As he rolled over and opened his eyes, the bright room dissolved into the fuzzy, familiar outlines of the boxes he'd been living out of for the past couple of weeks. Standing in the middle of them, however, was a woman-shaped blur that had definitely not been there when he went to bed. Gasping, he fumbled around on the bedside table for his glasses and wand.

"Good morning, Harry!" the blur said.

"Luna?" he replied, trying to calm the racing of his heart as he finally managed to put on his glasses and watched his friend slide into focus. For some unknowable reason, she was wearing a baggy tartan sundress, a wide-brimmed yellow hat that would have looked enormous on Hagrid, and polka dot wellies. "Why are you just standing there? Why didn't you wake me up?"

She blinked. "I didn't want to startle you." Flopping down on the edge of his bed, she added, "You should get dressed soon, or we'll be late."

"Late?" He glanced at Fabian Prewett's battered old watch. "The memorial service isn't for another four hours."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that. The memorial services are always so dreary and unpleasant; they make me quite sad. I think we should do something else today." Sitting up straighter, she glanced around his bedroom with wide, appraising eyes. "Ooh. It must be convenient having all of your clothes out in the open like this, instead of tucked away in a wardrobe."

"Err." He raked a hand through his hair. "It's not going to stay this way. I just haven't got around to unpacking yet. I've been busy..."

Funny, how the same thing that had prompted Harry's purchase of his cosy new home in Godric's Hollow — his promotion to Head of the Auror Department — was the very same thing keeping him from finding the time to fix it up and actually enjoy it.

Luna nodded, her lips turning down at the corners. "Yes," she whispered. "I know. You have the day off today, though, so—"

"Well, I'm sort of expected to give a speech," he mumbled.

"You've given a speech every second of May for the past ten years. I think it's about time they let you have a rest. I know I'd want one, if it were me. Anyway, too much public speaking puts you at risk for developing Declaimer's Disease, Harry. If you keep it up, you'll start wandering around in a mindless daze, giving impassioned speeches to anything that will stand still — mostly trees and grass and Aquavirius Maggots." Smiling, she rested a cool, smooth-skinned hand on his bare shoulder. "We've been friends far too long for me to let you succumb to such a sad fate."

Chuckling, Harry reached under the brim of her ridiculous hat to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks, Luna."

He might have been imagining it, but he thought he saw the hint of a pretty blush tinge her cheeks.

"I quite like what you're wearing right now," she said, gesturing at his pyjama trousers, "but you might get a bit cold without a shirt where we're going. I'll wait in the kitchen while you get dressed."

-oOo-

"Oh, good," Luna said, beaming at Harry and swinging their joined hands back and forth. "It hasn't started yet."

As he took in their surroundings, Harry couldn't imagine what Luna could be talking about. The deserted moor of windswept heather on which they stood seemed worlds away from the sunlight and gentle breezes of Godric's Hollow. The moody, dark clouds overhead rumbled and groaned, threatening to burst open at any minute.

Steadying herself on Harry's shoulder, Luna stepped up onto a large rock that made her almost a head taller than him. And then, without any further explanation, she began to wait.

It wasn't until the first handful of fat raindrops fell that Harry realised the purpose behind Luna's absurd hat. She tugged on his arm, pulling him close enough that the gigantic brim sheltered both of them from the storm.

Harry smiled. Only Luna would think it would be easier and more fashionable to wear her umbrella on her head instead of carrying it.

"My mum didn't go to her father's funeral," she said suddenly, her voice almost swallowed by the pounding of the rain.

Harry didn't know how to respond to this, but fortunately, Luna kept speaking.

"It was before I was born. Dad told me about it after she died, you see. He said that she preferred to remember people with music and laughter, and he wanted to try to do the same for her, since it's what she would have wanted. The only problem was he couldn't sing or play any instruments. We could have listened to the wireless set, I suppose, but instead, he brought me here. He told me to close my eyes and imagine that the rain was an orchestra, playing only for her." Pausing, she squeezed Harry's hand. "Close your eyes, Harry."

In spite of feeling more than a little ridiculous, he did as she asked.

"I think they would have preferred something like this," Luna said, not needing to specify which _they_ she meant. "They wouldn't want the speeches about sacrifices and the moments of silence year after year."

The rain continued its steady beat, punctuated by the sound of Luna's soft breaths. Harry didn't hear anything resembling music, but standing in the downpour with her so warm and close still seemed like a better way to honour the fallen than attending the same old memorial service.

"I think some of the best things in life are the ones that you have to imagine," she whispered. "They're so much more interesting than the stuff that _anyone_ can see."

The shelter of her hat vanished. A startling burst of frigid water splashed against Harry's legs as the rain soaked him from above. His eyes shot open. Luna stood in a puddle off to his left, giggling and bright-eyed and more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

"Music _and_ laughter, remember?" she said.

Grinning, Harry snatched her hat and took off running across the moor. He kept his pace slow, allowing Luna to catch up before he leapt into a puddle and sent a wave of muddy water crashing into her.

"Revenge!" he shouted.

They raced back and forth in a meaningless, serpentine pattern, laughing until they were hoarse and splashing each other countless times. Eventually, when they were both drenched and shivering, Luna stopped Harry with a gentle hand on his wrist.

"You know," she said, gasping for air. "The Floogles come out on the moors when it rains. They're empathic, so we're probably even more likely to see one now. They can't resist laughter — it's like chocolate to them."

Peering under a nearby clump of heather, she made a sound that reminded Harry of a woodpigeon.

"Oh, what the hell," he murmured to himself, taking her hand and lacing her fingers together with his before bending over and looking for a creature he was almost certain did not exist.

He did not, under any circumstances, coo or otherwise encourage the Floogles to show themselves. Even when voluntarily immersing himself in silliness, he had to draw the line _somewhere_.

-oOo-

The quilt billowed up like a sail as Luna spread it over the damp grass, its bright patchwork appearing colourless in the muted starlight. With a smile in Harry's direction, she sprawled out on the time-softened fabric and let out a contented sigh.

"I had fun today," he said, draping his jacket around her shoulders before flopping down next to her.

"Me too," she replied. "It's too bad we didn't find any Floogles, but I suppose half the fun is in looking."

Harry made a noncommittal hum. "I wonder if they missed me at the service."

"Probably. I always miss you when you're not around." She knit her pale eyebrows together. "And sometimes when you are."

Something warm and bright and wonderful fluttered through Harry's chest. Instead of telling her that he hadn't meant _missing_ him in that way, he trailed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"D'you remember when we almost ended up underneath some mistletoe together in my fifth year?" he asked.

She nodded. "You didn't want to kiss me, so you jumped away."

"Err," he said, swallowing hard against the mixture of guilt and nervousness that churned in his belly. "Well, I...hmm." Pointing up at the sky overhead, he added, "It might be a bit more difficult than imagining music in place of rain, but...imagine there's some mistletoe above us right now — Nargle-free, of course."

"Why?" she whispered, her eyes widening when he shifted closer and cupped her face in between his hands. "Harry? What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done years ago."

With that, he closed the distance between their mouths, brushing his lips against hers ever-so-gently. Feeling her pulse race beneath his fingers, he smiled into the kiss before pulling away.

"Oh," she whispered, giving him a radiant smile. "That was nice."

Harry agreed so emphatically that he kissed her again — over and over. He couldn't get enough of the way her small hands gripped his shoulders or how soft her lips felt. Most of all, he found himself addicted to the glowing, tingling sensation that spread through his body and made his heart overflow with fondness.

"By the way, Harry," Luna murmured some time later as they lay on the quilt and gazed up at the stars in a happy tangle of limbs.

"Hmm?" he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"There's no such thing as Nargle-free mistletoe."

_The End_


End file.
